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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533292">Death’s A-Circlin’</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasma_in_ink/pseuds/plasma_in_ink'>plasma_in_ink</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout: New Vegas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anthony House has some kind of Revenge, Can't cheat death twice, Courier Dies, Don't send kids to war, Friendship, Ghost!Anthony, Ghosts, Teen!Courier, short and sweet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:47:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533292</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasma_in_ink/pseuds/plasma_in_ink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On a hill in Goodsprings, a teenage courier cheated death out of taking her too-short life. At a hydroelectric dam, death finally collects - and an old ghost gloats.</p><p>"I think I'm happy with the result of my interference. After all, I've denied him... you."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Death’s A-Circlin’</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The battle of the dam roared around her, but where the young Courier was, there was only silence and a fuzzy sort of comfortable warmth. An odd warmth, to be sure, because it came along with a too-familiar chill.</p><p><em>Death's a-circlin</em>, she thought, her thoughts flickering and fuzzy. The blood coating her arms and legs and face was hot - it felt like it was burning her skin - and she'd stopped shivering long ago. The sickness had stopped too, just after she'd talked the big ol' Legion man into retreating. Of course, just because he retreated didn't mean that the battle was done. Death was all around her, but the battle was already won for the person she'd thrown it all in with. It just had to wind itself down.</p><p>The Courier’s battle was nearing it’s end, though - the battle, specifically, to breathe through bruised and tired lungs. To pump what remained of her blood through her. To live, second to second, and endure. She'd stumbled into a nice little nook to bleed out in peace, away from the cameras that now truly had eyes. He'd find her eventually, he would, but she'd be gone, and she didn’t think she had the energy to talk to the man in the tower now. Some would say that, at fourteen hard-fought years old, it was ending all too soon, but the courier didn’t care anymore. All she wanted, after staggering away from the battle, was a bit of peace and quiet before the grave.</p><p>"I'm honestly shocked that you survived this long."</p><p>The courier opened her eyes dazedly to a man who wasn't really there. It was easy enough to tell him from the real people – after all, he wasn't filthy and bloodstained, and his clothes were from before the war. Nice ones they were, too, about as good as the pristine dresses she'd tried on in New Vegas. Good cloth - no good for the wasteland by the teenage courier’s reckoning, but then, the man was no wastelander. Wasn't alive either. She knew all of this because she'd met him before, at her grave, all those months ago after Benny had given her two bullets to the head – it had been nice of him to keep her company and jaw with her as the doctor put her brains back together. Though she’d seen the old tool factory. He wasn’t a nice man.</p><p>But none of that mattered now.</p><p>"Same," the Courier said, waving weakly at him with her remaining hand. Her other arm had been ripped off by a series of lucky (unlucky) shots not too long after she’d brought the Platinum Chip to its third final destination. It was sort of incredible – when she’d watched the screens light up with the green-glowing face of her friend, she’d been whole. Now, the stump of her other arm dripped blood, there no longer being enough for it to truly bleed anymore. Amazing, how fast things could shift from life to death.</p><p>The dead man crouched next to her. "It's a mystery for the ages," he said, regarding her with piercing eyes and looking over her many other wounds appraisingly. If he had been alive, she might have feared him for the sparking intensity behind them - a madman, true and true - but none of that mattered now. He could no more hurt her than he could save her now. <em>This time.</em></p><p>"You know, even though he won in the end, even though he’s still alive" the man said, looking up at the huge structure that now sheltered her dying form, "I think I'm happy with the result of my interference. Helping you survive was a very good call."</p><p>"Not bad," she managed, through her aching throat, "To have your name on everythin'."</p><p>The dead man grinned, "Exactly. <em>Our </em>name is on one of the most successful enterprises of this new world. It will mark the very stars. It will be a blessing and a curse on people's lips for centuries. Father will be pleased, oh yes... and, of course, my half-brother will never realize that I've finally won!"</p><p>The man laughed, cruelly, maniacally, but the Courier only smiled with tired benevolence. "Uh-huh," she said. If he wanted to feel like he'd won, she wasn't going to stop him.</p><p>"... So, what I mean to say, is that I'm satisfied denying him... you."</p><p>"Not your doing." The Courier said, gauging her remaining strength. Not much - death was busy out in the dam for sure. Heck, maybe that’s why she was still breathing! But it would come for her in a few moments. Very soon. That was why he was here, of course - both of their times were up. They’d cheated death once before, and death always collected it’s due. Polite-like, sure, but it always collected.</p><p>"No, not mine,” the dead man admitted, “Honestly, I might have wanted you to go on a little longer, if only because you’re a fun one to watch… but I guess there’s only so far a lucky kid and a ghost can get when you try to go up against a wall of blades and guns. But,” he smirked, gleefully, “I'm the reason why he'll never find a better protege. He'll always be looking for you - for what you could have been - and he'll never fucking find it!”</p><p>"Thinkin' real highly of me, huh,” the Courier said, not sure she agreed. Sure, she’d done things in the past few months, but she was just another kin-less wasteland kid – nothing special. No more than any other person with a will and a way. At least, that was what she thought – and dying here changed nothing.</p><p>
  <em>Or maybe not.</em>
</p><p>"Oh, I do. And he does – and my half-brother can't settle for <em>good enough</em>. That will torment him for all of time – for his entire, very long life." Anthony stood at last and held out a hand to the Courier, "Well, come on. It’s that time, and we both have to go. I’m pretty glad for the company, to be honest, but we have a long way to go before we’re done.”</p><p>"Gimme a sec," the Courier mumbled, staggering to her feet with the help of the cramped nearby wall. With her last remaining strength, she covered her free fingers in her own blood. "Gotta do one last thing."</p><p>Anthony watched as she did what she had to do. It took every last ounce of strength and focus that she had, and when it was done, she collapsed to the blood-soaked concrete, spent. He laughed again, nearly doubling over. "Oh yes, that's perfect!" he crowed, as the weathered dam beneath her became all-too-comfortable, "He'll never forget you, now."</p><p>The Courier couldn’t even chuckle at this point, but she did manage a weak smile. <em>He’ll be all right.</em> She thought, of the man in the tower. That adventure was done, now, and a whole new adventure awaited her – the young Courier could see it gleaming through her eyelids like the last green flash of the sunset.</p><p>She took the man’s hand and closed her eyes, finally, to the pain of the broken world.</p><p>***</p><p>The courier disappeared just after neutralizing the Legion’s own monster with words alone. Even with the coverage of his new cameras and an entire crew dedicated to cleaning up the dam, it took a full day to find her, lifeless in a hidden nook.</p><p>
  <em>Thank you.</em>
</p><p>That was what the dried, blood-red writing on the spattered wall said when Mr. House finally found his erstwhile lieutenant. Despite his efforts - and he had quite a lot of means now, to fund those efforts - he could not restore the child that had aided him. Dead was, still, forever dead.</p><p>It was no Pyrric victory, of course - he had won decisively, securing himself and his ideas a place in this world... a place that would only grow until it reached worlds beyond. He was victorious, the Legion routed and the NCR cowed, and all others in the desert watching the shining city on the sands with wariness and interest. He felt that victory acutely, as he eased his consciousness into the networks of Hoover dam.</p><p>He also felt her loss. A hundred plans now had to be scrapped or re-evaluated, and work aside, he had been looking forward to shaping this young yet capable person as she matured. The sheer potential he'd seen, not even at full capacity, was enough to deeply regret its loss. He'd hoped to enjoy her company, too, from wide-eyed curious prankster to... whatever she would become. He hoped to have had someone witness that he did indeed keep his promises, to the spirit and to the letter.</p><p>Now he did not have that, and he had no one qualified to take her place. Benny? As if he would trust the snake twice. Her companions? Too many motives to kill him to spare. An estimate told him that someone of the courier's caliber could take decades to find, breed, or otherwise discover... and, since free will was almost a requirement for the sort of work he would need, without any sort of guarantee that they would work for him.</p><p>A setback.</p><p><em>At least she already has a grave,</em> he thought darkly, <em>and at least I can monetize it.</em></p><p>Not a fatal one, but a setback.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kid!Trickster!House courier is adorable, I have a thing for ghosts, and the idea of Anthony House fucking with his brother's plans/a haunted H&amp;H factory is super cool.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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